


bloom

by paperthestral



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Florist AU, Fluff, Meet-Cute, a dollop if you will, but come on its less than 3000 words how much heartache can i possibly cram in, don't tell my advisor, happy clexaweek everyone, happy ending cause i'm not a monster @jroth, please enjoy the fruits of my labors that definitely should have been used for my thesis, there's like a smudge of angst if you squint, useless lesbian florist lexa, writing this gave me a cavity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperthestral/pseuds/paperthestral
Summary: how would YOU handle it if a drop-dead beautiful girl waltzed into your shop in the middle of a storm and wanted to buy a cactus?if you're as useless a lesbian as Lexa, possibly a little like this.





	bloom

It started with a cactus. 

Lexa looked up from the bouquet she was arranging at the melodious tinkle of the bell on the door. Inside stepped a customer so thickly bundled against the cold that it was impossible to make out any identifying features, bringing with them an icy gust of wind that made petals tremble all over the store. Lexa glanced involuntarily towards the orchid display, wondering if she should move it into the back until the worst of the storm was over. When she looked back towards the door she jumped - the customer was right in front of her, and had removed enough layers for Lexa to realize that she was stunningly pretty. Her heavy winter coat was slung over her arm, and her cheeks and nose were dusted pink from the cold. Snowflakes clung stubbornly to curling blonde hair, which fell just past her shoulders and was covered by a blue knit cap. Lexa only realized her mouth was hanging open when an errant snowflake landed on her tongue. She snapped it shut with an audible click that she desperately hoped the girl hadn’t heard. 

The girl blinked at Lexa. Once. Twice. “Ah...can I help you find something today?” Lexa prompted gently when the silence continued, mentally congratulating herself for remembering how to form words. She waited patiently for a response, trying very hard to focus on her job instead of the way the customer’s eyelashes splayed across her cold-pinked cheeks when she glanced down. Really, eyelashes that long were unfair. 

“Yes! Sorry, yes. I need….plants.” 

When she did not offer more information Lexa suppressed a smile and continued: “Well, we have plenty of those here. Are you looking for anything specific?” The girl’s eyes left Lexa’s for the first time and darted quickly around the store. There was little to see - winters were not kind to florist shops and this year was no exception. Lexa was about to ask if she would like some time to browse when she burst out: “I….need a cactus. Very much.” Lexa took a moment to process this - it was a historic day in florist history. Never before had a customer swept in on the winds of a winter storm and asked for a desert plant...but there was a first time for everything. 

Lexa was nothing if not professional, even when accosted by beautiful girls who burst into her shop on the heels of a storm and started demanding cacti. There should be a medal for this. "Employee of the Month" was all well and good, but when you were one of only two employees besides your boss and your competition was a high schooler who had once tried to put out a candle by covering it with a Kleenex, it started to lose its charm. “Absolutely. Unfortunately, we don’t have much in stock right now-”

“That’s fine,” the girl reassured her hastily. “I’m really not picky.”

“Okay, then,” Lexa said, leading her over to the shelf containing the cacti. The little green plants were lined up neatly in rows, not a flower to be seen among them in such cold weather. “Why don’t you choose whichever plant catches your eye?”

The girl took a moment to study the little pots, chewing her lip absentmindedly. Lexa watched her patiently, noticing the little flyaway blonde hairs peeking out from underneath her winter hat. It was cute, almost as cute as the way the girl was furrowing her brow in concentration as her eyes roved over the cacti. Despite their similarities, each one had a distinct personality and Lexa couldn’t help wondering which one she would choose. She retreated politely to give the young woman some space, but didn’t go far. Really, the next shelf over was in absolutely abysmal shape, no less than three loose leaves just littering the ground where anyone might trip over them. Lexa set herself to remedying this disaster immediately...and was it her fault if her current position offered her a perfect view of the young woman’s adorably pensive expression? After only a few moments the customer looked over at Lexa, finding her immediately through the gaps between the shelves. Lexa hastily schooled her features back into polite professionalism as she rose, dusted herself off and returned to the girl’s side, keenly aware of their proximity. 

“Um...which one is your favorite?”

Lexa blinked, a bit taken aback. She hadn’t had a customer ask her favorite before. Recommendations, yes, but...never her personal favorite.

She had an answer ready, though. 

“This one.” She lifted a small, plain pot near the end. The cactus it contained was almost perfectly round, no flowers to be seen and thorns jutting from every visible surface. Little Aden, the high schooler that Gustus had hired to help with weekend chores, had been about to toss it in the compost bin when Lexa had snatched it away, gently scolding Aden for almost murdering the poor little thing. (“No one is going to buy it! It hardly has any flowers and it’s the middle of summer.” “Neither do you and we still keep you around, Aden!”)

The customer didn’t hesitate a moment. “Sounds great!” she snatched the plant from Lexa’s hand with a grin and turned confidently towards the register. After a moment of valiantly fighting off the blush that had definitely arisen when the girl smiled, Lexa followed.

The girl stood quietly as Lexa rung her up, giving her a small smile whenever they made eye contact - which felt like more often than normally happened with customers. Lexa was by no means hostile, but neither did she go out of her way to make friends everywhere she went and at work she was the picture of polite detachment. Needless to say, she was a little thrown off by her sudden impulse to glance up and see if the blonde girl was still watching her with those impossibly blue eyes every few seconds. Maybe she was coming down with something. That might also explain the odd warmth in her chest as she finished packaging the little cactus and handed it off to the girl. 

As she passed off the bag with its carefully wrapped passenger, Lexa felt her fingers brush the other girl’s for an electrifying moment. The girl’s eyes snapped to hers as if of their own volition. She parted her lips, and Lexa felt a strange anticipation tighten her chest.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and the girl simply wrapped her scarf fondly around the little cactus, slipped into her coat and walked out quickly without saying a word. Lexa remained at the counter, trying to understand why she felt so strangely disappointed. Was that another symptom? She should really get that looked at.

***

Lexa’s disappointment was not to last, though. Over the course of the next couple months the same girl returned to her shop at least twice a week, on each occasion buying a bouquet or arrangement more beautiful than the last. The awkwardness of their first meeting eventually lifted, and before long it felt like reuniting with an old friend every time she walked through the door. Lexa began to grow embarrassed at her enthusiastic reaction every time she heard the bell (although Gustus praised her “attentive customer service” with a knowing twinkle in his eye). She learned that the girl’s name was Clarke, that she loved to wear scarves - Lexa had never seen her wear the same one twice - and that she loved the piano music they played softly in the background of the store. Lexa began to learn Clarke’s favorites, and when she saw that familiar blue winter hat bobbing outside the window she scrambled to change the song to one that she knew Clarke loved. She never grew tired of seeing the other girl’s smile grow wider when she heard the first tinkling notes of a well-loved piece, and if she had created a couple (okay, five) new playlists since learning Clarke’s favorites that was no one’s business but hers (and Aden’s, he mooched off her Spotify shamelessly). 

Clarke was also an artist, and their visits rarely ended without Lexa asking to see the newest additions to the sketchbook she always carried. Clarke had a remarkably delicate hand, and Lexa never tired of paging through her work, always eager to see what Clarke had thought worth preserving. The pages were etched with swooping, graceful lines, showing everything from a sleek if rather moody raven that frequented the neighborhood to beautifully detailed renditions of a copse of willow trees in the nearby park. Lexa’s favorite was an illustration of the butterflies that surrounded the shop every summer, when they passed through the area after returning from their migration. Clarke had perfectly captured the trembling vivacity of their wings even in stillness, and the sketch almost seemed to warm Lexa’s face as if she had just walked outside and tilted her face towards the summer sun. She had stared at the drawing for much longer than was probably appropriate when Clarke had first showed her, fingers silently tracing the butterflies’ swooping dance in between the flower petals while Clarke watched, uncharacteristically quiet. Eventually Lexa had returned to herself, and tried to make up for her prolonged stillness by briskly flipping the page to the next drawing. To her surprise, Clarke let out a yelp and snatched the sketchbook back, giving Lexa only a brief glimpse of dark, thick hair drawn on the page before it was whisked out of her hands. Clarke had spluttered something about forgetting an appointment before turning on her heel and fairly dashing out of the store. Lexa had stared after her, bemused, as the bell tinkled cheerily behind her. Clarke had been perfectly normal when she’d returned a couple days later, although she’d had a new sketchbook in tow, claiming that she’d filled up her old one. 

But all good things must come to an end, and so it was one day when her coworker Anya struck up a casual conversation with Clarke while Lexa had ducked into the back for a moment. 

“So, you’ve been buying a lot of flowers lately.” Anya leaned over the counter, pinning Clarke with a penetrating look.

Clarke, who was by now used to Anya’s abrasive style, laughed good-naturedly. “I guess I have been.”

“Could there be a special someone in your life that all these flowers are destined for?” Anya continued.

“Ah....well…kind of?” Clarke stammered in a rare show of uncertainty, eyes flicking towards the door behind the counter.

“It’s a yes or no question.” Anya narrowed her eyes.

Lexa, who had just walked in, turned her face quickly away from Clarke and Anya.

“Whatever you say, Anya.” she said with a carelessness that she did not feel. Of course all the flowers had been for someone. What, had she thought Clarke was buying them so often for herself? No single person needs that many flowers. It was a good thing she hadn’t yet asked Clarke out...she had been planning on it, but that would have been unbearably uncomfortable for the both of them when she had to reject her. At least this way, the friendship was intact.

“Lexa?” Clarke said tentatively. “Is everything okay?” Of course she could tell. Clarke could always read Lexa’s moods like a book, had been able to from the very beginning despite their being complete strangers. 

“Of course! Just got something in my eye, give me a second.” Lexa said, the lie dropping easily from her lips - like honesty, only prettier and sharper. She forced herself to walk past them at her normal pace towards the bathroom. Once there, she braced her hands against the sink and looked into the mirror. She hadn’t expected to be so disappointed. It felt disturbingly similar to all those weeks ago when Clarke had first left her shop and she had known nothing about her - not even her name, let alone whether she would see her again. Except this time it was worse, because she knew what she was losing.

“No,” she said aloud, firmly. “No, it’s not worse. I’ve still got a great friend and I’m not going to lose that just because she’s with someone else. It’s not the end of the world.” 

Behind her, there was a quiet gasp. It was quickly muffled, but the damage was done.

She spun around, dread constricting her heart as she saw Clarke’s wide blue eyes looking at her in shock. Her damn traitorous heart skipped a beat at the moment of eye contact - it always felt dangerous to look at Clarke directly, without sketchbooks and music and plants between them. For a second she saw nothing but blue, and it froze her just as it always did. In that second, the eyes widened even further and then suddenly disappeared.

“Clarke!” she shouted, lunging to open the door and glancing wildly around the store.

Lexa’s eyes settled on the door just in time to see a long white scarf disappearing through it, the bell chiming traitorously behind her.

By the time Lexa reached the street, Clarke was gone.

*** 

Lexa did not sleep that night. For hours she tossed and turned, hating herself for ruining the best friendship she had ever had. When morning came it was only the idea that Clarke might still come by that made her drag herself to work. 

Half an hour from closing time, that hope had evaporated. 

Lexa was listlessly checking off inventory, half contemplating moving to Peru with a new identity, when movement from the street caught her eye. She moved around the aisle to see better and stopped short, heart beating wildly in her chest. 

There was a mountain of flowers coming towards her. Some blooming and new with waxy petals waving delicately in the breeze that she remembered having in stock last week, and others old and withered, in danger of blowing away with every awkward lurch. For several moments Lexa was frozen, but as the tower of flowers approached the shop door she launched into action. She lunged forward, pulling open the door and holding it so that the flower monster could shuffle awkwardly inside. Once there, it seemed to pause for a minute to get its bearings and suddenly moved towards Lexa with surprising speed, shedding petals and leaves everywhere. Despite herself, Lexa could not suppress a quick thrill of fear at the thought that this quasi-eldritch monster was about to engulf her like an amoeba. Who would tell Gustus? Oh, and little Aden...Lexa had so much left to teach him. So much wisdom to impart...not the least of which was the proper way to put out a candle without burning down the shop (and ruining a perfectly lovely wick).

But she needn’t have worried. From the depths of the petals rose Clarke, panting and as rosy-cheeked as the moment that Lexa had first seen her. The blazing relief that washed over Lexa at the sight of Clarke, inexplicably here and not angry with her, almost sent her to her knees. Clarke glanced down at the flowers, then back up with a shy smile, and Lexa suddenly understood. 

These were all of the flowers Clarke had bought from her. Here, in this very shop. She had not given them away to an unknown lover….she had kept them. All of them. (Lexa only spent a moment wondering what Clarke’s living space smelled like, with all those decaying blossoms, before she went back to being happier than she’d ever been).

Clarke shifted a little, sending flowers cascading down to the floor in rainbow of color. Lexa automatically reached out to brush some of the petals away and flinched when a sharp pain lanced through her finger. Eyes widening, Lexa glanced down and felt her breath stutter. For in her hands, Clarke was carefully holding the tiny little cactus Lexa had chosen for her the day they met. Only now, a swath of tiny red flowers was blooming along one of its arms. 

She met Clarke’s eyes and felt a smile she could not - and did not want to - control spread across her face. She would have been happy to stand there in that moment for years, but Clarke broke the silence first with a smile that mirrored her own.

“So...you want to get coffee sometime?”

**Author's Note:**

> hello one and all, it is I, who have never before posted on ao3 despite having so many half-finished google docs i can practically hear my fbi agent crying as she tries to spy on them all. i only just watched the 100 last spring (up to 3x07, anyway) and i've been academically useless ever since. please enjoy the result of my procrastination on my thesis and i hope everyone in this wonderful fandom had a great clexa week <3
> 
> also, if anyone wants to come find me on tumblr to yell about this fic or literally anything else i'm @paperthestral, @fiveforsilver1 on twitter. especially if y'all have tips for keeping houseplants alive, i only have one (1) schefflera named little bob but every time he gets a slightly weird looking leaf i go through the five stages of grief. i love talking to new people and i don't bite, i promise. i'm too tired for that


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